


Fever Dream

by deerna



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon AU-ish, FantaWestern, Gen, Genji doesn't trust omnics yet, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 17:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12512568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerna/pseuds/deerna
Summary: Genji is tired of running, and the Hunter is on his tail. But instead of catching him, McCree leaves him with a piece of advice and a new destination.





	Fever Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This fanwork was written for [Lande Di Fandom](http://landedifandom.net) for the following challenges / prompts:
> 
>  _Notte Bianca 26: Madame Zelmira_ : Fantawestern  
>  _Notte Bianca 26: La pasticceria del Buonumore_ : Sogni e Incubi [ _Dreams & Nightmares_]

A man who can't remember his destination often looks for it in the bottom of a glass.

Genji wasn't a stranger to that way of thinking. Washed out memories of his misspent youth sloshed in the amber drink he cradled in his metallic hand. He'd been running from his responsibilities, chasing the illusion that, as long as the Shimada name was associated to his face, he would've been part of the family and worthy of their interest. He'd been young, and stupid, and scared.

And then he had been dead, almost killed by the one who was supposed to protect him. Rising from the ashes, he became a vengeful spirit, and worked tirelessly to erase any trace of the clan, cut off any tie he had with it, burning off any proof that it had ever existed in the first place. But a dragon tattoo, faded green ink barely recognizable, still marred his neck, and the creature crooned in his soul, reminding that he had once again fallen victim of delusion.

So Genji had ran again, and he had never looked back.

He knew that Blackwatch was hot on his heels; he went to Egypt, to Nepal, back to Japan and back to America, and even after Overwatch was declared officially illegal, the bounty over his head counted quite the amount of zeroes. He flexed his fingers, clicking them against the glass in a clear, tuneless song. The advanced tech that that body was made of didn't really belong to the one who lived in it, after all.

He drained the glass, and gestured to the barman for another drink. As it refilled his glass, Genji stared at the omnic: it was a fairly old model, one of those humanoid androids that were so popular in the Twenties, before the Crisis hit. Genji remembered seeing a few of them employed as handmaids in the Shimada castle, but he never really _looked_ at them. Now he couldn't help but stare: he took in the polished dome of his cranial unit, the dirty-green sensory array bleeping away in a v on its forehead, the mess of cables and carbonium fiber joints disappearing in the neck of its shirt. Weird bumps tented the fabric at its shoulders; it looked like a scarecrow playing dress up. Suddenly afraid that someone could tell that he wasn't entirely human under the heavy cloak and scarf, Genji pulled the garments tighter against his throat, before nodding a thank and drinking half of his alcohol in a long pull.

The creak of the saloon doors opening was so loud that Genji could hear it even above the mess of drunken singing and piano playing that was happening somewhere at his left, a white noise in the background of his weariness. The deceptively heavy steps were familiar enough that Genji could recognize them without turning, as Jesse McCree got ready to walk all over his grave.

Genji let him sit, and grin down at him, before tipping his jingasa on his eyes, a backwards sign of acknowledgement.

“Nice hat,” McCree commented, clearly amused.

“Are you here to collect your bounty?” Genji shot back, blunt.

“I don't know. It's not any fun when they're not running. Are you trying to get caught?”

“No. Even a hare needs its rest.”

“If you weren't trying to get caught, you would've changed your clothes.”

Genji tensed up, but he knew well how to hide it. The last time he had changed his disguise had been while he was in Japan, but McCree couldn't possibly know that. Either he was in touch with the people that had been chasing him there, or McCree had been tailing him for a long time and just know he had decided to make his presence known. He side-eyed him, wary; underestimating Jesse McCree kept being a bad habit of his.

“I didn't think it mattered, since this place looks like a movie set,” Genji snarked, gesturing to the piano playing literal saloon music, and the very scantily clad prostitutes that mingled around the patrons in the back. “This place is either a fever dream or a very vivid nightmare.”

McCree smiled, and then hailed the barman. “Kotlin, you look gorgeous. Is that jaw a new installation? Very nice profile, it suits you.”

The omnic _tittered_. “It's been a long time, but you're always the same, McCree.”

“You know me, honey. Fetch me my usual?”

“Sure,” Kotlin said, pouring from a dark bottle with experienced, extremely precise movements. “What brings you around this time? Another hunt?”

Genji was ready to drain his drink and _flee_ , but Jesse leaned subtly into his side. “Nah,” he drawled. “Just a friend, this time. He's in a bit of a pickle at the moment, but we'll figure it out. You know how it is, you work your ass off half a lifetime, and in the end you don't even know what the hell you're doing anymore. He's a little lost.”

“Ah, I know that feeling very well,” Kotlin nodded, placing McCree's whiskey on the bar. “You know, after the Crisis we all felt a bit like that. Brand new life to live, and we knew nothing about it.” Its voice sounded fond, almost wistful. “But thank the Iris, the Shambali showed us the way.”

The name rang a bell in Genji's mind, that wandered back to his trip to Egypt, to the weird omnic who had called him out to him. _I know the doubts that plague you._

“Ah, I've heard of 'em.” McCree took a sip and clicked his tongue. “That Mondatta is something else, isn't he? He's got a real way with words.”

“Truly an inspiration. It gives us hope, even in this small town in the middle of nowhere-” Kotlin cut itself off as patrons on the other side of the room started shouting at each other. “Oh, my goodness. I'm sorry, I need to take care of that. It was a pleasure, McCree, I hope your friend can walk in harmony,” it excused itself, and then ran off to break up the fight.

McCree finished his drink and got up.

“You're leaving?” Genji asked, trying to keep surprise out of his voice.

“You heard the lady.” McCree shrugged, and tucked under his empty glass enough money to pay his drink twice. “You don't need me, you need a spiritual guide. I know you were in Nepal, just find your way back. You need a lift?”

Genji shook his head.

“Then best of luck, my friend.”

As loud as they'd been when he had entered the saloon, the doors opened again at McCree's passage, and the cowboy was gone.

Genji drained his drink, paid for it, and followed him outside, in the dusty afternoon sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Find more of my stuff on [tumblr](http://somewhatclear.tumblr.com/) or come say hello on [twitter">.](https://twitter.com/somewhatclear)


End file.
